


Peach Blossoms

by Topographical_Map_Of_Utah



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Ancient China, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, Fairy Tale Elements, Fantasy, M/M, idk how to tag this, young space husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 12:52:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10742079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Topographical_Map_Of_Utah/pseuds/Topographical_Map_Of_Utah
Summary: Once upon a time, Baze stole from the gods. He wasn't the only one who suffered the consequences.





	Peach Blossoms

The day dawned cold, mist circling the bare cliffs of jagged yellow granite and finding shelter between the thick blanket of pine trees. From his perch on a mossy stone outcropping, Baze could take it all in, the whole of Songshan at his feet. A lovely view, but one he had grown accustomed to over the past ten years. It had lost much of its charm, unfortunately. A beautiful prison was still a prison, after all.

Growling, Baze slunk back into the shadows of the underbrush, tail swishing across the dead leaves. He had given up on walking upright several years ago, seeing as all he could manage was an absurd waddle. Whichever god had turned him into this _thing,_ they couldn't have given him the dignity of orthograde posture, could they?

He prowled the woods with practiced detachment before something unusual caught his eye. A young monk was sitting cross-legged on a boulder, staff resting across his lap and eyes closed, mouth moving with a quiet mantra. Morning chants, Baze figured. He had spent his childhood in a monastery, but hadn't observed any principles in a long time. Ironic, considering his home was a temple of myth and he probably qualified as a supernatural being. 

Suddenly a voice broke into his thoughts. Baze realised that the man had spoken, eyes still closed. He did realise who he was speaking to, right? An unusual monk, Baze decided as he drew closer. Handsome, yes, but rather unusual.

"You're more than welcome to join me." The monk offered again, voice a steady hum. Baze growled a warning but the monk didn't even twitch, although he did open his eyes, smiling in Baze's general direction before turning to dig through his bag. "Come on, then. This rock's big enough for two, and I've got food." 

At that, Baze stood dumbfounded. The monk must have seen him by now, and he had a rather alarming stature. He was a guardian spirit of the mountain, feared and revered by those who know of him. And this monk had just invited him for a picnic. Bold as he was confused, Baze went and stood right in front of the monk, waiting for him to turn and recoil in horror. But when he did, it was Baze who had to strangle a fearful gasp.

"You're blind." Baze realised, staring into a pair of pearly blue eyes, untouched by age or hardship despite the monk's hard, angular face. Fear thrilled up his spine, ice water in his veins. He knew this monk; he knew those eyes.

Chirrut smiled at him, and Baze very nearly ran away.

"I am? Well, that would explain a lot." Chirrut's laughter was as warm as Baze remembered it to be, childhood condensed in a single note. "My name's Chirrut. And you are?"

"No one important." Baze mumbled, still awed by the man before him. The last time he had seen Chirrut, he had been a spindly child of twelve, skin and bones and those haunting eyes. Now he was still wiry, but his broad shoulders held the promise of strength, and his hands were calloused from years of training and fighting, training and fighting. Was there still that child in there, Baze wondered, that child he had sworn to protect?

"So are you joining me for breakfast or aren't you?" Chirrut prodded, offering a neatly packed bowl of soup. Baze swallowed down his fear and took a deep breath. He could not throw away the last chance he had of seeing Chirrut. He would never forgive himself if he did.

"I might just sit with you awhile, if that's alright." Even after getting an approving nod Baze still hesitated, brow even more furrowed than usual. "I can't help but wonder what you are doing up here. Monks never come this way." 

"Hm? Oh, I've left the monastery. I may return, one day. But for now, there's someone I have to find."

"Who?"

"Someone important." Baze hopped up onto the rock and Chirrut cocked his head, listening. "You don't walk like a man." he observed.

"That might be because I'm not a man. More of a beast, really..."

"If you insist on calling yourself a beast, at least tell me which beast it is."

"I don't know." Baze admitted. Promptly Chirrut reached out, wiggling his fingers impatiently when at first Baze didn't respond. Reluctant, Baze bumped his forehead against the heel of Chirrut's hand and tried not to let his emotions betray him. Years, he had waited for this, and now he wanted nothing more than to run.

"A takin's horns," Chirrut mused, running a hand over Baze's head. "A tiger's mane, a northern wolf's snout..." His fingertips paused around Baze's leathery lips, carefully tracing the sudden jut of his fangs. "You don't smile all that much, do you?"

"Haven't exactly got a reason to..." Baze mumbled. Chirrut's clucked his tongue as his hands made a slow circuit across Baze's chest, which he concluded to be that of a moon bear. He was a patchwork of animal anatomy, thrown together on a whim. Bear, tiger, odds and ends of creatures that made Baze feel like a freak. Chirrut though, he just smiled and gave his ear a playful tug. At that, Baze's heart melted back down to the delicate little thing he had given to Chirrut when they were children. Gods help him, he was about to hand it over again.

Even after breakfast Baze couldn't find it in himself to leave Chirrut's side. They walked on together, talking until the sun was dipping below the mountain peaks. Chirrut was astonishingly confident in his movements. A lifetime of training had done its job, it seemed. But even he had some troubles when it began to rain, a deluge that would have forced the sighted indoors as well. After a moment of debate Baze guided Chirrut through the forest, back to the temple he was forced to call home. Once through the door Chirrut perked up and took a deep breath, a smile spreading across his face as he smelled the blossoming tree that grew in the centre courtyard. 

"You like peaches?" Baze made his voice go up at the last moment in a question, remembering that he had no place knowing anything about Chirrut, let alone the fact that his favourite food was the peaches occasionally distributed to the youngest in the temple. Baze still remembered the smile on his face when he saw the big clay jar sitting in the kitchen, brimming with the harvest. That smile alone got him by, some days.

"Mm. But I thought they didn't grow in this province..."

"They don't. But there's an exception to every rule." Baze shrugged. As he was nudging the fire to life the rain suddenly stopped, as quickly as it had begun. Chirrut stuck a hand out the window, and when his palm came back dry he shot a smile at Baze, but one that promised nothing good.

"I would gladly keep you company here, but I must be off. Besides, I've already promised myself to someone, you see." he teased, voice light. If he were someone else Baze would laugh, but hearing Chirrut say those words made tears rise in his eyes.  

_Me._  Baze wanted to sob.  _You promised yourself to me._

"Oh." he said instead. But as Chirrut made to gather his things he got to his feet and nudged Chirrut's shoulder, wishing he had more subtle means of communication. "At least stay here for the night. Can't have you traipsing about in the dark. What if you get lost?" Chirrut cocked an eyebrow and Baze considered the redundancy of his statement. "Please, Chirrut."

_Please don't leave me._

"You are an eager host." Chirrut finally relented, dropping his pack and laughing. "But I can't blame you. Can't have many travellers coming this way."

"No one. Not in ten years has anyone shown up. Would you like dinner?" Baze asked, relief flooding his voice. The temple was stocked with food; pots of pickled vegetables and bags of rice, beans and noodles and grains waiting for the guests who never arrived. Baze didn't have to eat, so he usually ignored his pantry, but now he couldn't be happier for it. "I can make rice and tea and tofu and..."

Baze kept up his childish prattle as he trotted over to the kitchen, Chirrut letting himself be guided along with one hand curled in Baze's mane. Oh, how wonderful it was to have him back. The circumstances may not be entirely ideal, but Baze was perfectly willing to work around that.

 

\-----------

 

After an hour or so of meditation Chirrut got to his feet and stretched, the creaky floorboards cool on his bare, tingling feet. The calm had somewhat quieted the buzzing in his head, like a hive of bees under the influence of smoke, dulled and docile. This would have gone on for another half hour in the temple, but he needed to be up at the break of dawn if he hoped to make any headway in finding Baze.

He had left the temple in the hopes of tracking him down, knowing nothing other than the fact that he had disappeared into these mountains a decade ago. Perhaps that wasn't much of a lead, but Chirrut couldn't live with himself if he didn't pursue it.

As he got ready for bed Chirrut drank in the perfumed air of the temple, letting the scent calm his mind further. For a moment he considered tracking down his host and saying goodnight, then he decided against it. They had already spent a rather pleasant evening together, their lively chatter lilting over steaming bowls of rice and bean curd. While he had insisted he had no need for food, the beast seemed to have eaten most of his provisions in one night. After dinner he had set Chirrut down in a cosy corner with a mattress and waddled off to keep vigil. Over what, Chirrut hadn't asked. The beast's voice had taken on a hard edge as the words passed his lips.

Mysterious didn't begin to cover that man, Chirrut mused as he climbed into bed. Because he was certain it was a man he was dealing with, fur and horns be damned. So then there was the question of why and how the beast had come to be. A curse? Divine punishment? He could be a demon, or perhaps a demigod...

Chirrut rubbed his forehead and groaned. His mind was waking up again, theories and questions bumping about, clamouring for space. He held his breath for a moment, and the buzzing thankfully subsided. A sigh passed his lips and he closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep as easily as water rushing over rocks in a riverbed.

 

\------------

 

Chirrut could see in his dreams, of course he could. Childhood memories of sight reemerged at night, reminders of colour and light that used to fill out the world around him. Everything was stuck in the past, though. In his dreams, monks long since past their prime stood straight and tall, and Baze's smile was an innocent, gap-toothed crescent set in a child's round face.

They were water colours, though, melting and fading before his eyes. But what he saw now was vivid, crystalline, tangible. Sharp winter air stung his throat and the delighted shrieks of excited children playing in the snow rang clear as day in his ears. More than a dream. 

A vision.

Chirrut watched the scene carefully, stepping across the familiar temple courtyard, alive with the youngest of the temple. For a moment he hesitated, then his eyes widened as him and Baze emerged from the tight grey cluster of children by the door. He followed their path, greedily drinking in every detail of their faces and movements. It had been his first sightless year, after all. Who knew what he looked like.

It turned out that at twelve years old he was a spindly little thing, all angles and edges, sharp with hunger. Baze had a bit more padding on him, and a childish tummy protruded under his tunic. Chirrut had felt it against him often enough when Baze crawled onto his mat in the middle of the night, worried that he wasn't warm enough. Following them, he realised he was walking through a memory, the two hours spent at play before evening training. Chirrut recalled this day well. The feeling of snow between his fingers, the numbness of his nose. But it was all eclipsed by Baze's excited voice in his ear, the innocently laid plans that couldn't possibly go awry.

"...and when we grow up, I'm going to marry you." Baze was saying, simple and sure as he gathered up his cloth travelling bag and counted the provisions he had concealed behind a loose stone. Chirrut's younger self smiled at the words. Already marriage was a sweet reality stirring in his young heart. The three letters and six etiquettes were unknown to them, matchmakers mysterious creatures who had no say in the matter. In their eyes, marriage was nothing but two people loving one another, to the point where they were fairly confident sharing living space wouldn't drive them insane. And really, Chirrut mused, wasn't that the way it should be?

"You will?"

"Yes. We'll leave the monastery and go to the city. We'll become rich, and be the happiest people in the world." Baze assured him. Chirrut nodded, enthusiasm and the cold glowing in his thin cheeks. "But first, I have to give you something."

"I don't need anything." Chirrut watched himself insist. 

"Yes, you do. You need a wedding gift." Baze provided. "To show you that I love you more than anybody else."

"I know you love me." His younger self followed Baze to the very edge of the courtyard, clinging to the hem of his thick winter tunic. Chirrut hadn't been as confident back then, hadn't yet learnt how to navigate the world without Baze at his side. At that age blindness was an open wound, rather than a familiar scar.

"I know, but everyone else has to know we love each other, too. Like how _we_ know."

"So it's to show off?"

"Kinda. Mostly it's to prove that I can take care of you proper. What kind of husband would I be if I couldn't give you nice things?"

"I don't need nice things. What's the point in having nice things if I can't _see_ the nice things?"

"It's not gonna be a painting, dummy. I'll find something you like, trust me."

"You're gonna get whipped for this..." Chirrut warned as he helped hoist Baze over the wall surrounding the courtyard. The bushes on the other side rustled, then Baze clambered back up and leant down to kiss Chirrut on the tip of his bright red nose.

"Don't worry. I'll be back by evening chants, say I fell asleep in the shed again." He smiled, not caring that Chirrut wouldn't be able to see. "I love you."

"I love you more." Little Chirrut singsonged, his voice bright and hopeful. Chirrut watched his younger self feel his way back over to the other children, wanting to say something but finding that his voice was missing. Wonderful. No sight in waking and no voice in sleeping. He could never have the full set, could he?

Equal parts curious and fearful, Chirrut vaulted the wall and followed Baze into the forest. He fell in step behind him, keeping in time with the skipping, childish pace. At this time of year the mountains were snowy and harsh, treacherous to anyone not brimming with the energetic confidence of a child. After a deceivingly short, winding hike, they came upon an abandoned temple flanked by stone statues of the gods, sleeping beneath the blanket of snow. Undeterred by their contemplative hush, Baze ran through the courtyard, startling a partridge into flight and leaping up the broken steps at the temple door before clattering inside. Chirrut shook his head and bowed before entering. He would remove his shoes, but his whole body seemed to be made of mist. This once it was excusable, he decided as he stepped inside.

The air was sweet around his head, inexplicably rich with the summer smell of peaches. It was a familiar perfume, somehow. For a moment Chirrut just closed his eyes and breathed. The beast's home, he realised. That was where he had smelled it, the heady perfume pervading every room with enticing sweetness. For a moment a thought budded in the back of his mind. His mouth went dry and he tried to swallow. No, that was impossible, foolish, even. A foolish, foolish thought...

When Chirrut looked up he realised he had lost track of Baze. He found him in the courtyard, standing at the base of an enormous peach tree, ripe with fruit under the wintry sky. Baze surveyed the sprawling branches before discarding his pack and shimmying up the smooth golden trunk, towards the ripest fruit dangling from the highest branches, glistening in the leaves, close to bursting with juice. While he leapt about overhead Chirrut circled the base of the tree, throat tight with concern. Thankfully, a moment later the leaves rustled and Baze popped back into sight, an impish grin on his face and a telltale bump in the front of his tunic. Well, there was a reason the monks had nicknamed him monkey.

Once his feet touched the snowy ground Baze pulled the peach out from under his tunic, inspecting his prize with bright, proud eyes. What a gift it would make, he thought, what a smile it would bring to Chirrut's face. He traced the promising blush of its downy skin and smiled, then his face crumpled like a scroll thrown into the fire, suddenly confronted by the ravenous flames.

The sky cracked open above them and Baze snapped his hands over his ears with a cry. Lightning crashed, thunder boomed; the Earth seemed to move beneath his feet. Another piercing, querulous cry rose up over the din and Chirrut whipped his head around, eyes wide. Baze was writhing in pain, heaving with convulsions. Chirrut could only watch as the childish form distorted, bulged, grew beyond human proportions. Horns sprouted from his forehead. His hair spread across his body and coarsened into fur. Baze fell to his knees and clasped his hands together, imploring the clouds above in a tight, fearful voice, garbled with pain.  

"I'm sorry." he choked out, tears streaking his upturned face. "Please make it stop. I didn't know-I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." 

The pleas were lost in a harsh growl, familiar in Chirrut's ears. Only now the sound was plaintive and desperate, not threatening like the first time he had heard it. Baze thrashed, digging his fingers into the ground as claws burst out from under his nails, hands fusing into paws. Chirrut watched on in petrified horror, yet bizarrely, his mind was on the temple, his younger self waiting expectantly for Baze's triumphant return.

It would be a long wait, though.

After far too long the storm subsided. Baze collapsed and Chirrut ran to him, wishing he could help, wishing he could smooth back the matted fur, kiss the dark, bony brow. But he could only watch what had already transpired, watch what Baze had gone through all alone, all those years ago. 

"Chirrut..." he was sobbing, tears melting the snow where he lay in a pitiful heap. "I want Chirrut..." 

"I'm here, I'm here." Chirrut whispered over the shaking form, but his words were as soft as the snowflakes landing on Baze's burning face, as tangible as mist on the moutains. "Oh, Baze..."

With that the vision faded away, the breath of peaches the last thing Chirrut remembered. 

 

\---------------

 

The moon hovered over the mountains, low and full, the colour of candle wax reflecting the heat of its flame. How Baze would love to paint it. Claws wouldn't accommodate a brush, though. Resigned, he sat back against the tree, staring up at the blossoms rustling in the breeze. The petals were beginning to fall, little dustings of pink here and there. He liked to gripe and moan about his lot in life, but this part of it wasn't so bad. The flowers weren't so bad.

His ears perked up and his tail twitched when he heard the telltale squeak of footsteps on old wood. For a moment he was on alert, then he relaxed, seeing who it was. Chirrut was standing in the doorway, guiding himself along with a hand on the walls. He looked ill, chest heaving and skin shiny with the gleam of sweat. But after staggering down the steps he straightened, biting into Baze with unseeing eyes.

"Why are you in this temple?" he demanded, striding across the courtyard. His robes billowed around him, the orange stark against the blueness of the night sky. They were hastily arranged and his left shoulder was bare in the moonlight. "Don't lie to me." he warned, stopping several feet short of Baze, eyes reddened and accusing. Had he been crying? "Don't you dare lie to me." 

"Chirrut..." He just cocked an eyebrow and crossed his arms, still waiting for an answer, managing somehow to stare Baze straight in the eye. Yes, he had definitely been crying, Baze decided. He squeezed his eyes shut, shame twisting in the pit of his stomach. Because of him, Chirrut was in pain, and it was all his fault, all his fault...

Really, he had no choice but to confess.

"I was a child." he said softly. "I was in the forest alone and found a peach tree in full bloom. In winter. A tree of miracles." he recalled, thinking of the moment he had first stumbled upon the impossible display. "I picked the fruit. I was just a child. I couldn't have known..." The memory of transforming was enough to make him cower, the pain still a dagger in his mind. "I couldn't have known I was stealing from the gods. As punishment I guard their tree, and until they decide to release me, I remain here." he concluded, staring up at the flowers glowing gold in the moonlight. Deceiving things, lovely reminders of all the things he had done wrong.

"But you're not cursed to stay here, are you? You can go where you like, can't you?" Chirrut asked. Calmer now, he moved closer to Baze, sitting down beside him and leaning back against the trunk. "You could leave, if you wanted."

"Well, I thought that if I stayed like they wanted me to, they might eventually come around. If I please them, maybe they'll turn me back. Maybe, maybe they'll let me go. Maybe-"

"But if you could leave, why didn't you tell me? Baze, why didn't you..." Chirrut paled, realising what he had just let slip. Baze looked down and squeezed his eyes shut. So he knew. There was no changing that.

"You were going to let me leave you here." Chirrut continued, voice gentler. Baze's lower lip trembled, trying to stop the tears building up inside his chest. "You wanted to let me go without you."

"You..." Baze opened his mouth, and suddenly it all came tumbling out, a monsoon after a dry season, sudden and violent. "You weren't supposed to come here, Chirrut. You weren't supposed to see me again. You were supposed to move on. You were supposed to fall in love with someone else. You were supposed to find somebody who could love you and could care for you and-" 

"And that someone is you, Baze. However you might look." After feeling around for a moment Chirrut cupped Baze's cheeks, eyes soft and smile warm. "Man, beast, whatever it may be. I'm still yours, and you're still mine."

"I..." Baze blinked the tears out of his eyes and sniffled, hardly daring to believe it. "Really?"

"Of course. What kind of husband do you take me for?" 

For a moment, Baze held it together. Then Chirrut pulled him close and the tears began to fall in earnest. Baze sobbed and clung to the warm saffron robes, curling as much of his bulk against Chirrut's body as he could. A tight fit, but it felt _right_.

"That's it, lover, it's alright..." Chirrut ran his fingers through Baze's mane, smiling a little when he hiccuped like a frightened child. "Hold on. You thought a blind man would reject you for your looks?" Haltingly, Baze nodded into Chirrut's chest, breathing a muffled, sheepish  _yes_. For a moment there was silence, then Chirrut threw his head back and laughed, a delighted sound that pierced the air with its sudden vivacity.

"Silly man." Chirrut kissed the top of Baze's head and settled against the tree with a satisfied sigh, still holding Baze close and chuckling to himself as he scratched behind his ear. "Silly, lovely, wonderful man."

"Shut up..." Baze mumbled halfheartedly. And then, even softer, "I love you." 

"I love you more." Chirrut assured him.

As they sat together flower petals swirled around them, their perfume thick in the air. Baze closed his eyes and let the gentle rhythm of their fluttering caresses lull him. They really were lovely flowers, he thought as Chirrut began to braid them into his mane. No wonder Chirrut loved them so much.

Ever so slowly, he felt himself shrinking in Chirrut's arms, skin losing the coarseness of fur and scales, back straightening out and limbs easing gently back into place. Chirrut squeezed him tight and Baze shuddered in relief as the weight of all those lonely years melted away. Trembling, he pressed a hand to his face, feeling the regular, human features under his fingers. It seemed the gods had some kindness left in them, after all.  

"Goodness. That was fast." Chirrut tilted Baze's chin up and smiled as he felt along his cheekbones and forehead. "Has anything changed, though?" he asked, scratching the rough beard dusting the tear-streaked face.

"Chirrut..."

"What? This feels the same." He mussed up Baze's tangled hair, laughing as he combed out the knots with his fingers. "And you're just as big as you were before. At least it sure feels like you are..."

He stopped his teasing when Baze grabbed him around the waist and pulled him into a kiss, lips warm and soft and undeniably human. Chirrut closed his eyes and sighed in satisfaction, clasping his arms around Baze's neck and melting into his arms.

"Nothing's changed, huh?" Baze asked when they pulled away from each other. The timbre of his own voice was still rather gruff, he noted. Chirrut didn't seem to mind, though.

"Well, these are nicer." he admitted breathlessly, tracing Baze's lips with the pad of his thumb. Baze snorted and let their foreheads rest together, laughing when Chirrut nuzzled against him with a devilish grin, his hands roaming all over his chest and shoulders and stomach, eager to touch and learn. "Well, you certainly do _feel_ handsome, lover..."

"Glad to hear it." Baze rolled his eyes, craning his neck to watch the flowers glitter in the moonlight, not at all anxious to move from his spot. They would leave, of course. He would take Chirrut to the city where they would build a home, a life; let years pass and children grow and love bloom under their careful watch.

But first, they might as well lie here together for a little while.

"Do you think the gods would object if I borrowed a couple flowers?" Chirrut hummed lazily against Baze's neck. At the suggestion Baze threw back his head and laughed, the sound mixing with the petals dancing above their heads, swirling up into the sky to join the stars.

**Author's Note:**

> idk man this happened and i don't understand


End file.
